


The Ones That Grate

by MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Beating, Blood, Broken Bones, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, School, Violence, Whump, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 23:03:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays/pseuds/MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays
Summary: Peter is done with Flash’s shit. He doesn’t even care that he has powers; he just wants something to break.





	The Ones That Grate

**Author's Note:**

> Can be read as a part of the SoA series. It doesn’t really matter. I’m just pissed and want to make a character suffer with me.

Peter liked to think of himself as a kind, good human being. He helped out where he could and did his part for the little guy, and for all his faults and quirks, there were very few times when he hurt someone with the intent to cause as much pain as physically possible. Unfortunately, this was one of those times.

 

It was a good day, too. Cliche, he knows, but it really was. He didn’t have a single test that day, his schedule lined up perfectly with Ned’s, and they were serving macaroni in the cafeteria. Hell, in chemistry his solution was held up as an example! (In the moment his ears burned and he shrunk down into his seat, Sure, but it was still pretty fucking cool.)

 

And sure, the ever present rage he felt because he was a fifteen year old with anxiety, little family, no money, and a possibly fatal night job was still there, but it burned deep down, almost like a warm glow from within him.

 

And then Peter felt the glass. He felt the hard bottom of a glass test tube hit the back of his head and tumble to the floor, felt the  _crack_ reverberating through his skull so hard his teeth rattled. He turned around before he could stop himself because he’s been through this sort of thing enough times to know exactly what will happen but people never learn and Flash Thompson was one of those people who never learned and it was proven by the bloodlust in his eyes and test tubes in his hands.

 

But as Peter stared fuming at the somehow not broken glass on the ground, ignoring Ned’s “What the hell?” in favor of trying to fight instinctual tears clouding his vision already, another tune came sailing at him and he ducked without even looking. 

 

He heard a few surprised yelps behind him as this one shattered against a locker, littering the linoleum floors with tiny shards of glass that the janitor would complain about for days.

 

 _Goddamnit_.

 

Flash, though, is quick to play off his ‘miss’ with a sharp cackle. “Chemistry, huh? Always seems to bite you in the ass,” he remarked.

 

Oh, yeah. Mrs. Mathur had held his solution up as a counterexample; really, she was explaining to Flash what he did wrong, and he certainly had done something wrong, because no liquid should be making those gaseous bubbles.

 

How he had gotten the tubes from the storage cabinet was beyond Peter, but he couldn’t think about that right now. He couldn’t think about much beyond how much his head hurt. Because it did hurt. A lot.

 

Ned, though, was clearly pissed, if him muttering, “I am so  _pissed_ ,” under his breath was anything to go by. And Ned, always itching for a fight just like the rest of the students that had begun gathering around them, just like Flash who was still masking his humiliation with mockery, called, “Don’t be an ass, Flash! You don’t gave enough of one as it is!” A few  _ooh_ ’s sounded from the small crowd and Flash’s grin faltered.

 

He was quick to recover, though, and abandoned Peter, the Unmoving Target, complacent in his own embarrassment for just a second to focus on his Slightly More Restless Target friend.

 

”Really? You’re so gay that you stare at my ass all day? And you really need to lower your standards, Elephant.” Flash high-fived one of his goons, and despite the puny insult, Ned flushed bright red and clearly wilted, just from what Peter could see out of his peripheral vision because he was still staring at the test tube and noticed that it  _did_ sport a small crack, and he knew that if he put Even the slightest amount of pressure on it it would practically desintegrate, and wasn’t that fickle? The glass seemed perfectly upright, straight and easy to an untrained eye, but give it one more little nudge and it would slam over the cliff into oblivion.

 

Then MJ, God save her soul, popped her pink bubble gum and closed the locker door that had been sheilding her face from view. With no degree of emotion to the situation, though Peter knew her well enough to sense a little bit of simmering anger, she said cooly, “Alright, Flash is dumb, Ned is fat, Peter’s weak, can we go? The lunch line’s getting longer by the second and I’m not missing Mac and cheese day for another one-sided brawl.”

 

She turned on her heel without waiting for a reaction and, with her bag hitched up over one shoulder, began to stride away, giving off another resounding  _pop_. Peter looked up in shock and turned to follow her, grateful that she was there to stand up for him when he wasn’t Spider-Man, and was already planning a way to thank her when another test tube hit him right on top of the already growing lump.

 

Except this one wasn’t the same. This one shattered, sending broken glass raining down onto Peter and into the skin on the back of his skull. The blood immediately began to stream through his hair and down his back and it had been  _such a good day_ but it was too late now. In that moment Peter  _was_ that test tube on the floor and yet the tube was better off because now Peter had received his last little bit of pressure and that was it, he was shattered into millions of little pieces because no one had bothered to patch up his fucking crack and he couldn’t do it himself.

 

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. Peter Parker broke.

 

He heard Ned comment, “Holy shit, Peter, you’re bleeding—“ but he was already moving, already walking towards a still-laughing Flash with his hands curled into fists and a hard lump in his throat and then he was walking faster, then running and then he was on top of Flash and fuck it felt so  _good_ to pound something that wasn’t a pillow, something that could crack and break and give Peter real evidence to his rage.

 

And break he did.

 

Yes, as Peter rained punches down onto Flash he gave up all regard for his powers and gave it everything he had. People were yelling and hands were prying at him but he was so much stronger than they were. And he found that he was yelling too, yelling for the years of torment festering within him that he was finally letting out and onto this poor boy’s face. 

 

Peter was dead set on hearing the cracks as different parts of Flash Thompson broke. 

 

 _Crack_ —Flash’s nose bent and blood spurted onto Peter’s hands and clothes and books. Peter didn’t stop.

 

 _Crack_ —Flash’s jaw came loose, and a few teeth along with it. Peter still didn’t stop.

 

 _CRACK_ —Flash managed to get his arm out of Peter’s restricted hold and held it up to protect his face. Peter took a hold of it and snapped the bone as if it were a toothpick.

 

And Peter still.

 

Didn’t.

 

Stop.

 

He felt his own fingers breaking as Flash’s eyes began to roll back into his head and he had to move lower, pound on the ribs because there was nothing left to crack in the head but he didn’t care, he didn’t care about the blood pooling around him and the camera flashes and the screaming and sobbing and absolute fear radiating off of his classmates as he used his full superhuman strength on this puny, entitled boy beneath him.

 

And then for no other reason than that the moment had passed, Peter stood up and grabbed his things, staining the books with blood too and ignoring the searing pain in his hands. He turned his back on the mayhem behind him, ignoring all the people flooding to Flash’s side and shouting for a nurse that wasn’t there because the nurse only showed up on thursdays.

 

Yes, Peter turned his back on all of that, and he walked through the glass doors, towards macaroni or a jail cell, he didn’t know.

 

And he didn’t care.

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all ever just pissed as fuck and write it into ur characters bc as much as you want to scream into the night and claw your own skin off you live in a small quiet neighborhood in a small quiet house where people knit and go to bed at nine pm so doing Either Of Those would be bad news???? Mood


End file.
